After attending the Winter formal, Bree Simmons knew something wasn't right. Things have changed, and she isn't sure if they're for better, or worse. As a rising photographer, all of her attention is on the mysterious happenings in Beacon Hills. Whe...
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With Bree's hand entwined with his, Stiles dashed out of the Martin house in the direction of his jeep while the police sirens whined louder as they approached the chaotic party. Bree was still trying to decipher if what she was seeing was real or not, but didn't have time to think more on it when Scott joined them claiming, "Matt's the controller."
"Yeah, we just figured that out," Stiles stated, unlocking his vehicle and clambering inside the driver's seat.
Scott climbed in the backseat, letting Bree sit on the passenger's side before Stiles placed the key in the ignition and took off, fleeing from the scene.
"Where are we going?" Scott leaned forward in his seat.
Bree looked to Stiles, who simply replied, "My house," as he kept his eyes glued to the road, averting his gaze to look in the rearview mirror every few seconds. The light brunette girl smirked as soon as Stiles began ranting to Scott about his theory of Matt being the killer, declaring he was right after all, and reminding his best friend of how he didn't believe him. Scott sighed, listening to Stiles go on and on over how he was right before Bree stopped the conversation altogether with, "What are you going to tell your dad?"
Stiles' eyes glanced briefly to her before facing the road again, admitting, "That Matt's the killer. That he's evil and killing people."
"And what is his motive? What does he have against the swim team?" Bree challenged, lifting an eyebrow curiously.
Scott added, "Yeah and how exactly is Matt ripping people to shreds after he paralyzes them?"
They were met with silence as Stiles thought before he muttered out bitterly, "I'm working on it."
Once they arrived at the Stilinski home and Stiles parked and shut the jeep off, the three sprinted inside, thrusting the door open. They ran past the dining room where Noah Stilinski sat, reading a newspaper. His reading was interrupted by the commotion and he set it down, his head turning to find his son, Scott, and Bree clambering their way up the stairs. Curious, the former Sheriff followed, finding them crowding around Stiles' desk in his bedroom.
"What in the hell is going on?"
The three teens faced the older gentleman before Scott and Bree turned back to Stiles, who held up a yearbook marked with red sharpie.
"We know who the killer is," Stiles confessed, pointing to Matt Daehler's photo which was circled a few times.
In disbelief, Noah Stilinski sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Stiles, you're not supposed to be involved in police business. You know this."
